Chapter 18

Finding himself unable to concentrate, Bowman walked to the window and raised the blinds. A slight breeze rustled the tree leaves. He cranked open a window to take in the sounds and smells of the city, but the outside heat engulfed him. He quickly cranked the window shut and lowered the blinds. A heavy knock on the door startled him -- he walked over quickly and opened it to find a young woman standing beside Flint. She appeared to be in her low thirties. She had a clear olive complexion, and he thought she would probably be very attractive if not for her nondescript glasses and apparent lack of make-up. Her clothing was an inexpensive, blousy, two piece, print cotton dress, hemmed at mid-calf. She wore shopworn black flats. Her raven black hair was pulled back in a loosely constructed pony tail. Because of her clothing, he could tell little about her figure, which was just as well under the circumstances. This could be easier than I feared, he thought. Thanks for the warning, Flint.

"Yvonne Arceneaux, John Bowman. Bowman, Ms. Arceneaux," Flint said in his throaty voice with his face void of expression. Bowman smiled and nodded. The woman returned a brief non-committal smile. The two men began their conversation quickly. Bowman asked Flint to check out Earline Sims. Flint handed a videotape cartridge to his friend and left immediately. The room took on an uneasy silence. The woman stood still then began to speak in an apologetic tone: "Mr. Bowman." Bowman smiled and held up his hand to interrupt her. "Let's get one thing straight from the beginning. I'm not mister to anyone, except to children and people I don't know. I'm either John or Bowman, take your pick." She shuffled her feet, slanted her head and asked, "Which do you prefer?" "Makes no difference to me." "Well, what do most folks call you?" she asked with a touch of exasperation. "Probably Asshole, but not to my face," he answered. "But Bowman might be much better." She finally displayed a full smile. "And what should I call you? Yvonne or Ms. Arceneaux?" he asked. "Yvonne, please. I'm Ms. Arceneuxed to death at the station." "Well they're both beautiful names. Yvonne, I'm tickled to death you're here. You can be of immense help to me, if you care to be." "Of course, I care to be, but I don't have the slightest idea what to do or why I was assigned to you. I don't even know what to look for." Her exasperated look returned. He rolled back on his heels and folded his arms. "I'll bet Flint has been telling you about my peculiarities," Bowman chuckled. "Yes," she answered hesitantly. He nodded. "I'm glad he did. Maybe that will help you to be patient. The case file research is something I must do myself, but there's other research you can do that would free up a lot of time for me." Yvonne's face brightened. "So long as I know exactly what you want me to do, I think you'll find me to be a hard and willing worker." "Good enough. I'd like for you to take this video. Do you have a player at your home or office?" She nodded that she did. "This is a recording of the panel's presentation last night. I want you to condense the information to a total of about ten to fifteen pages. I'm in no hurry for it. In fact, I don't even want to see it until I've finished poring over these files." Boman said with a sweep of his hands. "My mind is so simple I can't clutter it with more than one thing at a time. Where will you work, at home or at the office?" She stared at him a moment before answering. "Does it matter?" she asked, the caution returning to her voice. "Not one whit," he answered. "Wherever you're most comfortable. I only asked because I'll need a phone number in case I need to get in touch or someone calls looking for you." "It's long distance. I live on the other side of Slidell in the middle of a swamp." "Gosh, that's a heck of a drive to work everyday." It is, but it's a cabin my parents left me. I just can't afford an apartment in town until I pay off my school loans." He nodded and scratched his forehead. "I understand. No problem. Just leave me a number. I won't call unless I have to and I won't give the number to anyone else. I'll just tell 'em you're on assignment and I'll call you with their name and number. Agreed?" "Sounds okay to me." When the door closed behind her, Bowman mentally patted himself on the back. Bowman, you're a genius. That should buy you the rest of the week.